


For Whom The Whistle Blows

by Talinor



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I did 2 weeks of software consult at HYPERION Psychiatric Systems' facilities in Mount Helios. All sorts of NDA's I’m very much breaking right now but seriously- fuck those guys.<br/>Terrible things happening there. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw.  Doctors talking about dream therapy going too deep, finding something that had been waiting for them in the mountain. People are being hurt and Hyperion is making money.<br/>It needs to be exposed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea and wanted to do it before it ran away from me. Keep in mind I wrote most of this while being tired, so if there are any contradictions, that's probably why.  
> Enjoy!

“Bro,” Vaughn looked from the glowing screen of Rhys’ laptop to the taller man typing an email. His voice was hushed in case the guard outside the door could hear the two in their kinda-private room. Hyperion kept a close eye on its employees after starting up the Mount Helios Asylum. And something told him they wouldn’t exactly appreciate what his friend was doing. “Are you sure about this? If Vasquez finds out-”

“If he finds out, I’ll deal with it.” Rhys assured at about the same volume as Vaughn’s voice. It didn’t really help calm either of their nerves honestly. Yet the other kept typing away. “But someone needs to know what Hyperion’s done to these people.”  
Another glance to the screen as Vaughn read over what Rhys was working on.

_‘To: fionaupshur@gmail.com_  
_Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Hyperion Psychiatric Systems_

_You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring._

_I did 2 weeks of software consult at HYPERION Psychiatric Systems' facilities in Mount Helios. All sorts of NDA's I’m very much breaking right now but seriously- fuck those guys._

_Terrible things happening there. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw. Doctors talking about dream therapy going too deep, finding something that had been waiting for them in the mountain. People are being hurt and Hyperion is making money._

_It needs to be’_

The two looked to the door as a knock emanated from the outside. “Mr. Park,” Rhys froze his fingers momentarily. “You’ve been paged three times already. Get your pasty ass over to the engine _now.”_

Hurriedly, Rhys finished up the last word and sent the email.

“What the hell are you doing in there, anyway?” The voice outside the room asked with the slightest hint of suspicion.

“N-nothing, nothing!” Rhys assured quickly, waver evident in his tone. He looked to his friend with a hint of desperation, asking him without uttering a word. Vaughn nodded, taking the spot in his chair as the taller stood up and hurriedly headed for the door. The guard opened the door for him, shooting a raised-eyebrow-glare at him as he speedwalked down the halls, the heels of his shoes clicking and clacking against the marble with every step he took.

He had to hand it to Hyperion- they certainly knew how to take care of their facility. Even if about 85 percent of them were manipulative scumbags doing very dubious (if not _highly illegal)_ things, at least they had one teeny-tiny thing going for them. 

Rhys didn’t take long to get to the end of the hallway, resisting the tiny urge telling him to try and snoop on the two having some kind of conversation by the quarantine doors. Yet he didn’t want any more suspicion than he’d already stirred up with his absence. You could argue his move was risky, but trying to eavesdrop was just plain stupid. It’d make him a target- make the higher ups at Hyperion keep a closer eye on him.

He didn’t need any more attention. Right now, it was best to just duck his head down and stay under the radar as best as possible.

The clear glass doors slid open for him smoothly, the guard at the only desk nearby glancing at him as he passed.

“Rhys Park, I’m guessing?” The man asked in the most bored tone Rhys had ever heard. He only nodded in response. “Why didn’t you answer the page?” He looked slightly curious now, almost challenging him to say the truth of what he had done. His stomach dropped, mind racing to think up a convenient lie. Rhys almost sighed out in relief when the guard shook his head. “Never mind. They’re already expecting you. Go on ahead.”

Rhys moved on ahead to the doors leading to the dream engine. Another guard at the heavy steel doors waved him in. “Christ, Rhys. Hurry up, they’re waiting on you.”  
Coming up with a response would just waste time. He was probably running short of that already, along with Henderson’s patience. He only rolled his eyes and went along his not-really-merry way to the room he was already supposed to be in five minutes ago.

The machine had always creeped him out before he knew what it was used for. The damn thing was huge, looking as if it could easily hold a dozen or so people inside half of the giant sphere at the top. He didn’t pretend to know how the corporation built such an elaborate machine, or the end goal Hyperion wanted to achieve with thrusting mentally unstable subjects into lucid dream therapy using it.

He already knew asking would only get him in a world of trouble. He liked his mind the way it was, thank you _very_ much.

“Ah, Park,” Henderson looked to him with fake warmth. “You’re just in time.” The man rushed him to a sleek chrome desk, monitors displaying code from the machine stationary on it. Rhys sat in the plush office chair, setting to work with the keyboard immediately. It was better to focus on the job instead of the shouting slowly getting louder as the next inmate was forcefully escorted in or the hand still presently planted on his shoulder.

At first, he’d thought Henderson was a genuinely kind man. He was always friendly around Rhys, smiling and leading the intern around the asylum. He was always touching Rhys in some way- at first, he didn’t mind the contact.

Then he found out what Hyperion actually was. What kind of person Henderson was.

A corporate scam practically covered in snake skin and oil.

“Sir, we could always delay-” Some intern he didn’t know inputted.

“Nonsense,” The man (much too) close to him waved the suggestion off. “Do you doubt Mr. Park’s abilities, Smith? He can get us into Lawrence’s head in no time.” He didn’t really check due to his attention on the monitors and the seemingly endless stream of red code in front of him, but he was pretty sure that Henderson was now looking at him intently. “Isn’t that right, Park?”

Rhys nodded, mustering the most pleasant tone he could muster up. “Yes sir.” He could do this. Coding was practically his second language, the reason he was hired in the first place. He just had to wait for the right chance…aha! A feeling of triumph washed over him as he struck perfectly. The red lines of code were now green, waiting for the subject to be inputted so they could do their job.

He was met with the sight of Henderson’s proud smile. “Excellent work,” He praised. “See what I mean, Smith? This is what men like Park were hired for.”

To be honest, Rhys seriously doubted his 'smarts' were the _only_ factor towards him getting hired, considering Henderson's kinda-creepy affinity with the taller man. He was, however, smart enough to smile at the compliment and not gag openly at Henderson’s proximity.

“All right,” He heard one of the guards say into his radio. “We’re ready. Bring Lawrence in.”

Rhys watched with barely-masked horror as he watched three guards bring the struggling man into the wide room below the little observation nook Rhys was sitting at. The man was fighting every step towards the machine, yelling incomprehensible things. Mostly begging for help, for someone to stop what was going to happen to him.

He remembers reading a little bit about Lawrence- His first name was Jack. Jack had a daughter and a brother who took custody of her when he was brought into Mount Helios. Rhys had been slightly curious as to how a seemingly-very-sane man found himself in the clutches of a company such as Hyperion.

Such information had been classified.

Rhys hesitantly glanced to Henderson and the doctors standing around him. He’d hoped (rather naively, considering how Hyperion was) to see some humanity on their faces, to see the horror he felt. Not even the other interns watching blinked an eye, like such a thing like this was… normal.

And it kind of _was._ That didn’t make it right, however. Didn’t make anything that Hyperion had already done or will do in the future any better.

This was exactly why their deeds needed to be exposed, laid bare for the judgement they deserved.

He jumped in his chair, immediately focusing on the glass window as the desperate patient pounded on it. “Help me!” Jack pleaded, almost hysteric. Strangely-colored heterochromatic eyes scanned the others observing him for any slim sign of compassion, and found it in Rhys. “You! I _know_ you can stop this,” The guards tried to pull him away, yet the pleading man persisted. “C’mon cupcake, you-you can’t let them _do_ this to me!”

The man on the other side of the glass only looked in horror, practically planted to his chair. Another guard stuck the needle of a syringe into the subject’s neck and just like that, the fight was gone. The sedative worked quickly, quicker than it probably should have. Green and blue eyes drooped reluctantly, body going limp despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“There we go,” He heard Henderson mutter to himself as they hooked up the unfortunate man into the machine’s pod. He was actually smiling a little. There was a slight satisfied hum as one of the monitors blinked the footage from Jack’s pod on. His eyes were open, but glassy. The poor man was _definitely_ not fully conscious right now; the wires connecting the interior of the pod to his face and body probably the only thing keeping him slightly awake. The other monitor helpfully supplied some information- the subject’s name, his identification numbers, heart rate and (limited) brain activity, etc.

“You’re dismissed, Park.” Henderson informed him. “Expect nothing but honesty in my report of your performance.” Considering his sickly-sweet attitude, that was a good thing. He sighed out in relief, anxious to get out of there.

Two weeks working for Hyperion’s more…advanced project, and he still wasn’t used to it. He left the room quickly, letting his mind wander aimlessly as he roamed the halls back to his room. This was how a day’s work usually went- they’d page him for something, he’d do his job, and leave pretending his skin wasn’t crawling. If they’d let him, he’d leave. There was no real point in staying, waiting for someone to need you.

But that was definitely not a good idea, if the rumors of employees disappearing after trying to leave before their contract was finished were to be believed. So he just headed through the familiar sterile hallway lined with doors to rooms much like his own.

Rhys counted the doors to his right until he knew he reached the right one. At first, it had been almost impossible to tell which door was his. They all looked the same and even though he’d been given a room number, the number wasn’t actually on the door. He’d gotten hopelessly lost before someone was kind enough to lead him to where his room was.

His designated roommate, Vaughn. Rhys had expected some bland corporate stooge or a douchebag he’d have to learn to live with. Instead he got something in short supply in Mount Helios- a friend who knew how horrible Hyperion was, instead of trying to look at it with rose-tinted glasses or simply looking away.

The two had become fast friends, bonding over talking about their favorite things. They had quite a few things in common. They both liked the same kind of movies, liked similar video games, and so on. The only good thing about this hellish internship was meeting his best friend.

He’d expected Vaughn to try to stop him when Rhys brought up trying to notify someone from the outside of Hyperion’s crimes. Not that he would’ve blamed him, really. There was no telling what would happen to them if they got caught. Which was why he was surprised when Vaughn brought out a laptop he’d somehow smuggled in despite strict security protocols. The internet connection they’d been able to whip up together was very weak to avoid attention, but it was good enough. 

He’d assured Vaughn time and time again that there was little to no chance of Hyperion finding out. And, if they did, he’d happily take the blame. It was Rhys’ idea and he’d happily go down for it alone instead of blaming it on the other man or dragging him down alongside him.

He twisted the doorknob to the side and opened the door with a slight creak. Vaughn was nowhere to be seen in the main portion of the room. Which left him either in the small bathroom they shared or in the tiny dark alcove they’d hid in while typing the email. 

He glanced over to the gray bathroom door first. The shorter man always shut and locked it when he was in there, happy for any minimal amount of privacy he could get from Hyperion surveillance. The door was open a crack, so there was no way he was in there.

Rhys made his way to the alcove, long legs only taking a few steps to get to his destination. While he could say he didn’t expect what he saw, he knew it was always an option. That thought didn’t really stop his heart from constricting at the sight.

Vasquez, the slimeball officially heading Hyperion’s project, was sitting in the only chair. He’d been looking at the glowing screen of the laptop on his lap until Rhys came in. There was no real telling of what he was reading, but it wasn’t really too hard to take a wild guess. He’d been caught red-handed, hand in the cookie jar. He felt his nerves freeze up at the gaze focused purely on him. “Well well well,” Rhys heard him say. _“Somebody’s_ been telling stories outside of class.”

He hadn’t even heard the guards behind him until one shoved him to the ground, feeling the cold tile on his skin. Rhys moved away from them as far as he could until his back hit the wall of the small room he was now trapped in with the most poisonous snake of them all. The guards didn’t move from the only exit he’d been pushed from, the one in front looking to Vasquez expectantly. All it would take was an unspoken order and Rhys’d be done for.

“Mr. Rhys Park, consulting contract 208,” The man stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in, holding the laptop open in both hands. As he talked, he got closer to the corner Rhys was now sitting. “Software engineer with a level 3 security clearance. Graduated cum laude from the most prestigious college in his small home town, yet somehow not smart enough to realize the last thing a fly should do in the spider’s web is wiggle.”

The laptop was dropped an inch or so from his foot, the loud crack as it shuddered and died down the only sound to fill the room for a couple seconds. His heart was beating rapidly, mind racing, blood thrumming with a desperate need to get out of the shitty situation he practically put himself in.

Vasquez bent down to be closer to eye level with him, the scent of expensive and way-too-strong cologne almost making Rhys vomit the shitty cafeteria food he’d had this morning. “Somehow dumb enough to think that a borrowed laptop, makeshift onion router, and a firewall patch would be enough to fool the world’s leading supplier in biometric security. _Stupid,_ Mr. Park.” Rhys’ throat tightened as there was a sadistic gleam in Vasquez’s eyes now. He could practically _hear_ the gears turning in the man’s head as he smiled coldly down at the trapped counterpart below him.

“I’d say that’s beyond stupid, actually. More like… _crazy._ ” Vasquez stood up, towering over the fearful man. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to detain you. Mr. Park, will you willingly submit to forced confinement?”

Anger bloomed in his chest. He knew he’d be confined with or without his consent, but he wasn’t going to be a pushover. _“Fuck you.”_ Rhys hissed in defiance. His rebellion was only met with a smug grin and a gaze over to the guard in front of the others.

“Did you hear what I heard, Thompson?” Vasquez questioned. Thompson nodded obediently, like a good wooden soldier. There was no sympathy to be found in anyone that he saw. He only hoped desperately that they didn’t know Vaughn was involved in this. Unless… no. He’d never sell Rhys out to these scumbags.

“I think Mr. Rhys Park volunteered for the Morphogenic Engine Program, sir.” Thompson supplied helpfully. The shark grin Vasquez got at that was downright sickening.

“Brave,” Those inhumane eyes were focused down on him once more. “The Hyperion Corporation and the onward march of science appreciate both your bravery and sacrifice.” Vasquez stepped back, looking back to Thompson. “Maybe you can administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?”

Thompson nodded. “Gladly, sir.”

He didn’t have time to worry as the guard stepped toward him, fists clenched. The first blow connected with his jaw, making it ache like an utter _bitch._ The second was a hit to his stomach, forcefully knocking the air out of his lungs and tinting his vision from the sudden relentless onslaught of pain. Rhys barely registered the pain of the third before his consciousness finally ebbed away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The page finally loaded, most of them just spam and junk mail. Boring, boring, clickbait, bo- “Wait…” She’d deleted the other new ones without reading them, but one of the subjects stood out. It practically jumped out at her, demanding to be read.   
> ‘Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Hyperion Psychiatric Systems’

Fiona breathed out a bored sigh, stretching out on the old plush couch even more than she already had been. It was official- she was in a weird funk. There was nothing for her to write about.

…Okay, that was a lie. There were plenty of stories for the journalist to write about. There were always plenty for her to choose from. But they were all bland, routine stories similar to ones she’d already written about time and time again. She didn’t want to end up sounding like a broken record. 

She wanted something new, something _actually interesting._ None of what she was supplied with had that enrapturing spark to it. A hospital that had been abandoned years ago- boring (and actually empty, she’d checked about a week ago. Complete waste of time and space in her camcorder). The routine silver-lining news story wasn’t really her thing. She liked a story she could sink her teeth into, a story she could rip bare- if she had to go through the nitty gritty, so be it. But that wasn’t the case with any of the ones she was hearing about. There wasn’t a single story that snagged her attention like a siren song in her ears.

The scent of something cooking slowly wafted through the air of the tiny apartment, followed by the sizzling hiss of eggs on a pan. She could hear Sasha humming to herself in the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of the fridge door opening and shutting. It was a domestic symphony- and Fiona wouldn’t have it any other way.  
While waiting for her breakfast (or was it brunch?) she arched her back slightly, taking her year-old phone out of her back pocket. She inputted the lockscreen’s code nonchalantly, the code so committed to her memory it was practically muscle memory at this point. 

She checked through her social media, not really paying attention to most of it. There wasn’t really anything too out of the ordinary. 

Janey, the mechanic who owned the rickety shop a block or so away, posted a few more pictures of wedding preparation. There was even one of her fiancée, Athena, _smiling._ That alone was a rare sight to see. She almost wanted to pinch herself. Athena was a stoic and strict woman until you chipped through her armored barriers. Very few could say that they had done so.

The sizzling stopped, followed by the creak of the old wooden kitchen cabinets opening. The clinking of silverware against ceramic plates reverberated through the air, sneakered footsteps getting closer and closer to the living room.

The room wasn’t special, really. There were two plush recliners that smelled like mothballs and old people (they were cheap, at least) and an old but very comfortable couch. The TV on the wall wasn’t fancy- they wouldn’t be able to afford the huge flatscreens with ultra-high-definition. Then again, they didn’t really need such fancy things. As long as the rent was paid and food was in the fridge, they were happy.

Sure, sometimes Fiona fantasized about a higher life. A life where they didn’t have to switch the heater off some nights in order to scrape up enough cash without delving into some shady job. It was probably stupid, but she used to hope that she’d find the one- the story that became so widely known news stations around the country would flock to her to ask how she’d done it. It would probably never happen, but it was always a nice thought.

“Hey,” Her attention moved back to the real world at her sister standing by, holding two small white plates of freshly scrambled eggs. “Move your legs, I wanna sit.” Fiona tucked her legs closer to her body, giving her younger sister space on their comfy old couch. Sasha plopped down beside her and put one of the plates on her lap. The other she put in her sister’s available hand.

“Thanks,” Fiona muttered, putting the plate on the side of her leg and picking up the fork. She stabbed into a fluffy yellow chunk and brought it to her mouth. It wasn’t bad- but then again, her sister’s cooking never was.

“You’re welcome,” Sasha replied. The only sound to fill the air for a moment was the scrape of fork prongs against the plates as the two sat in silence. Fiona didn’t really notice when her sister looked to her curiously. “So, found anything interesting?”

She sighed out in frustration. “No,” She pulled Google up on her phone. Maybe someone emailed her something that could get her out of this journalism block. “There’s just not anything interesting to write about, Sash.” The login screen popped up. She inputted her password, letting out another sigh as it the page slowly loaded. “Know what I mean?”

Sasha just shrugged at her. “You’re bound to find one eventually, Fi. You just gotta have patience.” She glared at her older sister when she snickered. “What?”

Fiona shook her head. “Nothing,” The page finally loaded, most of them just spam and junk mail. Boring, boring, clickbait, bo- “Wait…” She’d deleted the other new ones without reading them, but one of the subjects stood out. It practically jumped out at her, demanding to be read. 

_‘Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Hyperion Psychiatric Systems’_

Her eyebrows furrowed, clicking on it with a slight bit of hesitation.

_‘September 17, 2013_   
_From: c0m94nym4n@mutemail.com_   
_To: fionaupshur@gmail.com_  
 _Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Hyperion Psychiatric Systems_

_You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring._

_I did 2 weeks of software consult at HYPERION Psychiatric Systems' facilities in Mount Helios. All sorts of NDA's I’m very much breaking right now but seriously- fuck those guys._

_Terrible things happening there. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw. Doctors talking about dream therapy going too deep, finding something that had been waiting for them in the mountain. People are being hurt and Hyperion is making money._

_It needs to be exposed.’_

“Fi, you okay?” She heard Sasha ask. “You’re getting that look on your face.”

Green eyes flickered from the screen to their almost-exact counterparts. “What ‘look’?” Fiona asked incredulously. “I don’t have a ‘look’, what’re you talking about?”

“Oh come on, that’s _total_ bullshit.” Sasha rolled her eyes, letting them go in a complete circle before looking back to her sister with a knowing look. “Every time you find something that interests you, your eyes kinda… light up. You get this curious expression and that is _exactly_ what you had just now.” She leaned in, trying to see the screen. “So what is it?”

Fiona handed her the phone. While her sister read, she scooched back to the armrest. Elbows resting, she sat up to note the way Sasha’s expression changed. Her eyebrows slowly moved up, lips moving slightly as she read. It was a habit of hers to mouth the words. While she’d tease about it once in a while, it was actually kinda… cute. Sasha would jokingly punch her in the shoulder if she ever voiced her opinion on it, but it was true.

“Do I even need to ask if you’re gonna check it out?” Sasha handed the phone back to its owner, both of their half-eaten eggs forgotten and cooled down by now.

Fiona shook her head, an eager grin growing on her face. This was the perfect story for her. Hyperion had always been a shady company, but somehow their legal team was smart enough to always find some way out of consequences for their dubious actions. Maybe this was the story to finally tear them out from the inside. Maybe _(just maybe)_ this was _the_ story she’d been waiting for.

It was a dumb thought, but she indulged in the hope of it for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a bit shorter than the first, but it seemed like a good place to end this chapter.  
> My Tumblr is squishy--squish if you want to talk to me!


End file.
